100 Relevant Drabbles
by Rosa Clearwater
Summary: A drabble a day keeps the impatience for a new season away. 100 drabbles 100 days (Will involve all the characters at one point or another)
1. Umbrella

A/N: Don't own POI. But you know what the doctor says: a drabble a day keeps the angst away.

Why did it have to storm the one day he didn't have a umbrella? The man briefly glared up at the sky before continuing to walk along as his clothes soon became sodden and drenched in just minutes.

It really didn't matter whether or not it rained, it was just the idea that counted. No matter what the pain was constantly floating around, boxing him in a cloud of misery, and there was nothing that could actually get through the surface of his soul. Nothing seemed to have much an affect when loneliness truly took over.

Once she was gone, he carried a pain in his step. There was an ocean of numbness that seemed to have slowly dripped into his body over time and he became more disconnected with the world. He would spend his time walking down the street, almost like a vegetable or zombie.

On a superficial level, he still hadn't lost his purpose. But when he faced failure most of the time, it just brought the real lesson closer: he would never truly win. The short and incomplete victories were always overshadowed by the failures.

"Hey! You!" He turned, feeling a sharp pain in his neck. The limp wasn't helping and the rain stuck to him like cold wax.

But suddenly, the world of misery disappeared and someone broke through.

"You didn't seem right, drenched in the rain. Kinda like a soaked bird." Harold Finch merely looked blankly at the stranger who held a beaten down umbrella. Lionel Fusco suddenly fumbled with it, as he saw a confused look on the guy's face.

"Keep it," he offered. It didn't seem to quite register with the poor guy though, so he put the umbrella in his hand.

"I got another one at the precinct." He awkwardly finished, before glancing around at the receding rain. "Sides, what's the point in having an extra one if you don't share?" Simple words, for a simple man. They seemed to strike a deeper chord in Harold, awakening him from his comatose state of existence. The wax seemed to melt off the previously defeated man and he nodded at the detective. It seemed like a rather dramatic affect, but unexpected acts of kindness always changed ones perspectives.

"Thank you, detective." He muttered, but the wind picked up his words and carried them safely out of sight.

Their official meeting was not to be for quite a while.

A/N: The first of many to come :). I'm going to try my hardest to knock out one drabble a day, and as a bonus, there's two for the price of one today xD. I love me some finch and fusco 3


	2. Bunny

A/N: Don't own POI  
~

Detective Lionel Fusco was on a mission. There was no time for mistakes, or letting pedestrians get in his way.

He was on the quest for _revenge_.

Dragging the poor boy, who had not been prepared to be used as an excuse, behind him Fusco marched through the tacky balloons, the laughing children, and the clownish decorations like a soldier. He hadn't shoved anyone out of his way and crowds of elated people immediately parted for him like he was Moses and they the Red Sea.

The target in sight caught eyes with the detective before stiffening. Lionel sharply shook his head, _no you cannot run away from me now you bastard I _will_ catch you and prove that miracles can happen_.

His free hand slowly reached into his pocket as his eyes smirked in triumph as he finally came to a halt. The harried child regained his composure as his father pulled out a camera.

"Hey, Mr. _Bunny_," Fusco started with glee and heavy emphasis on the word "bunny", "can my son take a picture with you?"

Once Lionel had heard from Glasses that Wonderboy had to go to an Easter carnival in disguise, to hunt down their latest number, he had immediately taken his son out of school on a "family emergency" for some photographic evidence. It makes much more sense for a kid to want a photo than a middle-age man of course.

Both man and boy resigned themselves to their fates, evident in their painfully fake smiles (Reese's was more of a grimace) and slouched, defeated posture.

"Say cheese!" Fusco cackled.

And if one of these ended up in the hands of Glasses and Carter it would have been a complete accident, of course.

Obviously, he was keeping the one with the chocolate sauce to himself. That was pure gold.

A/N: I simply had to write some fun with Fusco! :D He's one of my favorites 3 (they're all my favs except HR people!)


	3. Moments

A/N: Don't own POI.

She had walked in on the two of them again. Not that she really cared, for various reasons. However, it probably felt awkward to them (even though she got a kick out of accidentally interrupting their moments).

They never actually did anything, of course. Nothing more than eye sex, and moments of concern in which one thought the other was too self-sacrificing. There was no physical contact yet it was always clear when they were having a "moment".

She was very close to just shoving them into a closet and calling it a day until they sorted out the sexual tension.

However, since that day was never going to come she'd just have to settle for calling them on their crap. And having something to stab or shoot when they were being really oblivious.

_"John! Are you alright? John, are you hurt?"_

_ "Finch! Harold!"_

_ "I told you, you're a civilian, you can't-"_

_ "Damnit, just because you have impeccable timing and nine lives does not mean you shouldn't invest in a bullet proof vest, John!"_

Oh, if she had a penny for every moment like that she'd be able to buy steak forever.

Ahh yes, a true drabble. I might do a second part to this in which Shaw actually locks them in a closet ;D (but only if I remember to lol!) Yes it was a little too short for my taste, but I'll make it up I promise!


	4. Pi and Pie

A/N: Vacation is a tricky time to upload, however, that's no excuse. I don't own POI and I wanted to branch in perspectives today.

I have never liked school. The whole learning system is stupid, the teacher pets are the only ones who "learn" anything and they already know the crap.

The only reason I even stay in school is because I don't wanna stress out mom more than I have to.

But like I said, it's _stupid_.

There's nothing that prepares me for taxes, Shakespeare isn't gonna land me a job, and why the hell should I care about when King whatever-his-name-is ruled over that one country a looonnggg time ago. It's not important today, so why should I waste my time "learning" it?

'Sides, the teachers here are stupid. They wouldn't care about you if you got shot in the damn leg. You still had to go to the stupidest classes ever in which they droned on and on about the importance of education and attendance, so they could get paid.

Bottom line, most of my time is spent wasted in a goddamn stupid hellhole.

So when I walk into the classroom, find some new white guy sub instead of the usual bimbo, man I'm not even interested. He's dressed to the nines in a nerdy fashion and most definitely does not belong in this part of town.

But then again, I could care less what his "story" is, he obviously ain't from my part of town. Probably one of those rich people who decided to "help" the "less fortunate".

Like we need any help from you. It's bullcrap when they walk in and decide that they need to look good so they make you feel stupider and they come off as so fake.

He probably doesn't even know jack.

Even if he looks like one of those NASA nerds.

So the bell rings and I'm just chilling in the back. If he doesn't care if we're on our phones, then why do I even have to pay attention.

But my eyes glance up at the board anyway, just to watch this guy. Let's see how he tries to "control the situation".

He limps, oh good we've got a gimpy today, over to the board and begins drawing a circle with a line.

Very impressive, Sherlock. Art class is down the hall.

And we've got a squiggly lines with other lines attached drawn up underneath.

Yeah, we got a loser today. Some nerd who's probably gonna be like "math may not be practical kids, but it can be fun and complicated and you're not gonna understand anything I talk about unless you've got an IQ of 500."

Is that even possible to have that kinda IQ?

Anyway, ooh now there's numbers to go along with the lesson. About time we got to the damn numbers. I'm not quite sure what's so important about adding all those little numbers after the 3 There's gotta be a limit to anything eventually.

"Pi." He starts, and immediately I can tell he's one of those smart guys, the ones that probably went to Harvard or whatever. And ooh, did he mention pie? Damn, now I want some now. Not that crappy sweet cherry pie, but delicious apple pie which is classic.

"Can any of you tell me what it means?"

Ooh the amount of smartass things at the tip of my tongue that are just waiting to be said. Just like me, the rest of the class is unimpressed and I'm pretty sure everyones got their phone out, even the class pets.

"I'll settle for an intelligent question here."

Then you came to the wrong place man. He awkwardly looks around the room and I resist to roll my eyes. Like, waiting for us to speak is like trying to avoid blowing a red in the city: it's not gonna happen.

"My friend has a question Mr. Swift," This is gonna be good. He merely smiles at her, oblivious to the fact that she does not care. At all.

"What is any of this good for, and, uh, when will we ever use it?" She smirked using that sugary sweet fake voice and the class snickered, myself included. He merely smiles, not even upset.

That's new.

"Let me show you," He says, turning to the board.

Go right ahead, Mr. NASA Nerd.

"Pi," Here we go, the five hour lecture on how back in his day kids actually cared about irrelevant things. "The ratio of a circumference to its diameter, and this is just the beginning."

Does pi live happily ever after? Is it story time?

"It keeps on going, forever. Without ever repeating." Okay, now I'm a little curious because like I said, everything ends at some point. Including this class.

"Which means that contained within this string of decimals is every single other number. Your birth date, the combination to your locker, your Social Security number. It's all in there, somewhere." He paused before hobbling around the classroom. Now he kinda really had my attention. Just how long is this pi thing anyway? And how do they know it never ends?

"And if you convert those decimals into letters, you would have every _word _that ever existed in every possible combination." No frickin way man.

"The first syllable you spoke as a baby, the name of your latest _crush_. Your entire life story from beginning to end. Everything we ever say, or do, all of the world's infinite possibilities rest within this one simple circle." He paused, having already hooked everyone's attention a loonngg time ago.

"Now what you do with that information, what it's good for, well that would be up to you."

–

She, my mom that is, always asked me about school. It was a pointless routine considering school never actually teaches me anything, but I respect her enough not to complain too much and just BS my way through the question.

But today, I had an honest answer.

"...Math's not so bad. We got any pie?"

There will be a second drabble, to make up for the fact there was nothing yesterday. Also, I have never tasted cherry pie so I'm sure it's delicious :) I also thoroughly enjoy learning so it is not my intention to actually bash education in any way, shape, or form.


	5. Wrong

A/N: I figured it was time to bring Carter into the mix :). We're going back in time to season one!

Still don't own POI

She was wrong.

She was so damn _wrong_.

It only hit her how grave an error in judgment she made, when he got slammed in the gut by bullets.

She really thought she had been doing the right thing. Doublecrossing people and selling them out was not her cup of coffee, but if it helped put away a dangerous guy she would do it. The lines of black and white always blurred a little when it came to putting people away. But once he fled away like a wounded animal, she really began to question the motives behind all this.

The more she questioned, the more trust she lost in all of this. The more she wondered about whether or not the right man got shot tonight.

She followed him down the stairs as though she was going down the rabbit hole after the white rabbit. Yet this time the white rabbit was bloodied up from gunshots and probably wasn't worried about being late.

He didn't even seem to have an escape plan.

She almost believed he was content _not_ surviving. That he preferred to bleed out with no one to save him and nothing to remember him other than the police files that would soon just get filed away.

Adrenaline was still pumping through her, motivating her to continue through the stairwell where she discovered the blood trail slightly grew before stopping.

So, what was next?

She was close, that much was clear. But close to what was the bigger question. Carter had to remind herself that she was still chasing down a suspect, questionable motives or not.

"Hold it!" She sharply cried out, gun moving forward to carry her into the scene. Her _innocent_ witness was carrying her suspect. Clearly accomplices and possibly something more, judging from the look of cold fury she received at her arrival.

Why is all of this happening?

Who really are these people?

The man in the suit seemed to have lost his confidence as he leaned onto his buddy more than she liked. Sweat covered him, and a look that seemed too weak to even beg for mercy reflected in his face. He didn't care about whether or not he made it, the Man in the Suit only seemed to really care about his partner getting out of this as dead eyes stared directly at her, like he'd already given up the fight to live.

It was time to make a decision.

She knew she was most likely gonna regret this, but she holstered her gun after a quick glance to make sure she wasn't seen by any other Agents.

"C'mon" She muttered taking him into her arms and helping him into the car. She'd helped them now and then get answers later, of that she would damn make sure of. The look of relief on his pal made her feel only a little less guilty about helping a possible suspect escape.

But instinct is what she always tried to follow, and this felt _right_.

"Go!"

At least, more right than watching him get gunned down for no real reason. The guilt that began to snake around her insides came from both shooting the Man in the Suit _and _saving him.

Time would only tell if she was right.

Or wrong.

Ooh I most certainly like Carter and how she changes through the series :) it was soo upsetting when she died D:


	6. Go

A/N: I apologize for the lack of postage. I don't own anything POI related, just a tshirt. And I will upload however many posts I've missed, so if there's suddenly a ton of new drabbles that's why.

He knew one day, they would all go. Whether it was shot down in action, or peacefully in their sleep. It was an factor in their line of work they constantly faced on an almost daily basis.

One day there'd be no Wonder Boy to come in at the last minute and take a bullet. Glasses might not be around to hack the Pentagon if need be. No Shaw to threaten anyone all while taking down a popsicle at the same time.

Carter was already gone. By rights he should have died a while back, not her. She didn't deserve it but he most definitely did.

He didn't deserve to have the chance to see his son so happy as though the world wasn't some conspiracy of delicate cracked webs, barely hidden from the public yet ready to fall a part at any given moment. He had no right to enjoy sunny days where it felt good to be alive.

Hell was going to reign any moment in life, and yet he was still _happy_.

... Well probably not happy.

But not quite alone.

At least, not yet.

A/N2: I'm not quite sure when this takes place but it's before everyone's split up, yet after Carter's dead.


	7. Be Our Guest

A/N: Don't own POI.

Why a teacher at an elementary school would be a number, Shaw didn't know. She didn't particularly care either.

All that mattered was getting through this without throwing a knife at a particular annoyance.

"_Finch"_ She had started, almost with a groan. But Shaw didn't groan in complaint, she just complained.

"Miss Shaw, as I explained, Mr. Reese is already busy with another number and this should be easy enough to handle."

She briefly considered poisoning Finch's sencha green in retaliation, but decided against it. She'd just rack up his bill by ordering at an expensive restaurant.

"And remember, Miss Shaw, that these are children. Treat them as such."

"Everyone on the stage please!" A shrill voice called from the front of the auditorium, as kids began to shuffle onto the stage to face the blinding lights.

"Yes, Ms. Ralenor." Shaw ignored the chorusing voices, scanning into the mini group of teachers nearby. Having spotted the two numbers of the day, Shaw stood in the shadows on the balcony, out of sight yet still close enough to the action to intervene if necessary.

"No fatal shots, Miss Shaw." Finch warned. She rolled her eyes in response.

"Alright kids, now today I want to do at least one full run through of the show! Give all the energy you got!" Miss Ralenor, unfortunately not one of the numbers, twittered out. "We only have two weeks left until it's performance week!"

"From the top!"

_Shoot me_, Shaw thought as a cacophony of tone-deaf singing filled the auditorium.

In surround sound.

Shaw had never been interested in Disney. Nor, was interested in listening to the entire Beauty and the Beast musical. Three times. Because that's how many times it took for Mrs. Marlis to reveal that she had been wanting to murder Mr. Perez because he had been having an affair with her husband. Unfortunately Shaw couldn't shoot anyone this time but she was definitely demanding a raise.

Now she certainly was reconsidering lacing Finch's tea with a laxative, or maybe LSD. Apparently he already had an incidence with it, but she couldn't get anything out of Reese and Fusco just gave her a look.

Rude.

AN2: I never quite do justice to Shaw, but I love to try. She's definitely one of my favorites :)


	8. Steps

A/N: Don't own anything. A little after Finch's original kidnap so around the start of season 2. But it's before Finch/Reese go out for a beer. Feel free to either put on bromance/platonic goggles or slashy for this one.

"Mr. Reese, I don't quite think-"

"Finch, it's time to get you back."

"Mr. Reese, I can assure you-"  
"Baby steps, Finch, baby steps. I can't have my Finch unable to leave the house if I need him in the field."

"Mr. Reese, it is not necessary to worry. I'm quite able to walk out of here whenever needed." False words, but understandably spoken.

Harold was afraid.

But today was not the day to go back into the safety of isolation. John needed Harold to make some sort of effort today and not fade slowly back into the shadows of fear and negativity. He was blending into the cold background of his surroundings and not even the new presence of Bear hovering nearby could bring him away from his fear and misery.

So Reese cornered him today, dog leash in one hand and Sencha green in the other.

"C'mon, Finch. Just a quick walk outside." He seemed to grow pale at the thought and words normally said in a teasing manner were muttered almost bitterly.

"You're quite incorrigible, _Mr. Reese_, with this idea that going out _there_ is something necessary for me. I am not you. My purpose is here."

"Your purpose, _Harold_, is to remember why we go after these Numbers. That even if they're irrelevant to the government they're not just numbers. They're people. Our purpose is to help them because we understand how important that is to help even the anonymous." The conviction in his statement was apparent, and the ironic role reversal was not lost in the situation.

Silence divided the two men, as John waited patiently. He wouldn't push Finch past his limits, but it was time to take action.

Something in Harold seemed to stir up a little, and John hid his surprise as the tired man slowly stood up before him.

"As you wish, Mr. Reese." Harold was still scared. But John was going to be there.

And that counted for something.

He was surrounded by warmth for the first time in weeks. Mr. Reese's arm was protectively wrapped around him, as they braved the world today with Bear in tow.

Harold only had a few seconds of warning.

Then, the noise attacked. Blaring horns, chatter filling the street, shouts , children laughter, the typical Humanity's noises assaulted his ears while the smells charged his senses, and he felt almost sick. Sunshine blinded him and he felt unprepared for this nightmare.

The library was peaceful, the library was calm, the library was _safe_. With only the delicate smell of knowledge, computers, and books wafting around him as a shield the library was his nest of information and comfort. His anonymity and solitude from the world was his shelter, his way of detaching from humanity and falling into the cold comfort of facts, information, logic, and numbers.

There were no Roots in his library. No unpredictable variables. No unknowns.

He tensed more than a cat doused in ice cold water would've. He fought the warmth, closed his eyes against the world, and tried to run back into the library.

Harold would've been safely tucked back in his little corner had it not been for John.

"Harold, stay with me." John's soft voice crept back into his mind, and Harold felt rather foolish for having this issue.

"Mr. Reese, I apologize for my behavior. However, I don't think I can stand to be out here much longer. I'm clearly not meant for this world."

"Just a block, Harold, then we can go back."

They began to walk. Feeling began to flood back into Finch's legs as they became re-accustomed to the action. Muscles began to ache with each step, craving exercise after days of being uncomfortably stiffed. The noise began to slowly lessen, as Harold became used to it once more. Bear and John merely waited patiently for their little bird, their Finch, to relax.

Shadows began to melt off Harold, and color returned to his body. He was still scared, flinching at every almost accident in the streets, and he couldn't look at any of the telephones. The limp was more pronounced, but every step he took forward was another miniature victory.

As the trio awkwardly headed down the street John hid a soft smile watching Harold try to come back to humanity.

This ordeal was clearly going to take effort to get past.

But they'd be together every step of the way.


	9. Family

A/N: Still don't own POI

Sometimes he would walk down the streets and see one. Their energy would fill up the area around them as though it were a strong bubble of happiness that the cold world couldn't take. Laughter twinkled protectively around them and happiness always seemed to float after them as though everything they touched was affected in a positive way.

Family was something he never really had.

Why would a killing machine ever need a family?

Sometimes, when such a wonderment passed him, he would think of Jessica. Sometimes he'd think of Carter and her son. Occasionally Lionel came to thought, but that was rare.

More often than not, he'd think of Finch.

Did Finch ever have a family?

Did John truly have a family?

–

They were sitting in the library when the answer became clear.

There was no dramatic climax for John's realizations, no near-death situations for him to figure it out.

Just a surge of protectiveness over all of his _loved ones_.

Because there was nothing else to call them.

They were his family. Stronger than just a group of friends or colleagues, these were the people he would gladly die for if it meant they were saved. If it meant they could live another day, he would gladly go down for them.

They would never get a chance to be a proper family. They'd never have an opportunity to just walk down a street together publicly, or laugh away their problems.

They were an odd group, but John didn't really mind.

He was never one for a proper family anyway.


	10. Snow

A/N: I've been in a wintry mood as of late. I don't own anything

–

They were on another one of their rare walks. Joss didn't mind walking with John. While they weren't partners, they were some sort of equivalent. Therefore, every couple of weeks, they'd just walk and talk.

At this point she knew better than to question him. Sure, she was never quite sure why he and Finch were doing what they did, or how exactly they kept finding all these people, but she was content not to question it for the moment.

She knew it was for a good cause.

"Detective?"  
However, she apparently didn't know what they were just talking about.

"Sorry, John. Got lost in my train of thought." He merely chuckled a little, something that was a rarity for him.

Perhaps everyone was going a little crazy from the weather. They continued to trudge along, in the snow covered city. NYC may be a concrete jungle, but in the wintertime it seemed to be more of a dirty version of Winter Wonderland. The snow did wonders to the city though, as long as it didn't melt into slush.

_Smack_.

"John!" He merely smirked, as she wiped the snowball off her front.

"I just need my detective to be alert." He said, as though that made up for it. She grumbled and shoved her hands into her pockets, carrying on. Conversation occasionally came up, and this time she was paying much more attention, keeping a wary eye on him while waiting for her moment.

_Smack!_

"Detective, is that a challenge?" There was a threat in that statement, yet Carter couldn't help but snort in response.

"Oh, it's on." That was a promise.

–

"Mom, what happened to you?" Taylor opened the door to a peculiar sight. A straight face Mr. Reese stood next to his mom. She was barely keeping herself upright from laughter, the former barely touched with any snow while the latter was coated in it. Joss's cheeks were flushed, her eyes lit with mischief as she smiled at her son before she struck.

"Mom! Not cool!" He said as she pelted him with two snowballs, before coming in for a frozen hug.

By the time he looked back for Mr. Reese, the man was gone with the wind.

–

"Mr. Reese, are you alright?" The man was standing in front of the entrance of the library, in the middle of winter, apparently waiting for Finch. Harold had finished with the work needed for today, and decided to finally head out with Bear.

"I hope you don't mind if I accompany you for a little while Finch." An odd request, but Harold didn't really mind. John had a strange friendship with Harold, but it was a nice change.

That is until he was smacked in the back of the head lightly by a snowball. He slowly turned to his employee and felt the snow in his hair. He was not pleased by that little surprise, especially since the fedora didn't really protect his head from the invading cold.

"Mr. Reese, as your employer-" He started to speak, but the sounds of John shaking from the apparently comical sight stopped the lecture in its tracks. Harold merely rolled his eyes in response, not even bothering to imagine his disheveled appearance.

It was worth it to see the normally stoic man finally smile.

AN2: I always blame the wintertime for creating OOCness as should you ;D


	11. Apologies

It is infuriating to admit that plot bunnies have left me and I can't seem to focus on anything in life at the current moment, except for the "real world". However, I despise not only striking writers block, but disappointing people.

While I don't believe many have read/will read this story, it's just sad to say that for the time being this story has to be put on hiatus.

Sincerest Apologies,

Rosa Clearwater


End file.
